Tales of Vvardenfell: The Magnus Contract
by CleverCabbage
Summary: Iorveth, an aspiring treasure hunter, arrives in Vvardenfell in order to find and retrieve a number of powerful artefacts. Drawn by the prospect of wealth and fame, he begins his epic quest, but not everyone is happy about the artefacts being uncovered. Iorveth becomes entangled in the political situation in the region, and is forced to reconsider his options.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

The smell betrayed the beast before its ghastly appearance did. The creature was huge. Taller than an adult Altmer and broader than an Orc. Its rotten flesh bloated and ripped open at several places, revealing sharp shards of bone. It walked slowly, barely moving its upper torso as it deliberately placed one foot before the other. Like a puppet, operated by an invisible puppeteer. Every time it took a step, bones could be heard rumbling inside their fleshy casing. A Bonewalker. A revenant guard, summoned by powerful magic. Iorveth had read about these creatures. According to the old tomes, the shambling horrors aren't sentient, but they are able to cast curses upon the unfortunate fools that dare to challenge them. Nasty magic that drains the victim from his strength and endurance. A prayer performed at a shrine or a common potion can cure the ailment, but the magic of the curse leaves the victim vulnerable to the considerable physical strength of the undead horror. Brainless as it may be, this is not an enemy to underestimate.

Suddenly, as if sensing Iorveth's presence, the Bonewalker turned in his direction. The face that stared at him from across the hallway, dimly lit by the torch in his hand, could only be described as pure horror. Iorveth could see the pale, blind eyes sitting in their decaying sockets. Most of the flesh on its head had rotten away, leaving only patches of empty skin to cover the huge skull. It let out a horrible sound. Something between a roar of anger and the gurgling of a man choking on his meal. Suddenly it started moving towards him. Slow at first, but gradually picking up speed. As it closed the distance between them, it lifted its rotten arms as if to welcome Iorveth in an embrace. Without warning a bolt of magic appeared from its stretched arms. The chaotic shape and brown-red color of the bolt revealed that it was destruction magic - most likely the notorious grave curse. Thankfully Iorveth had prepared for this. The scroll he'd activated before entering the tomb was responsible for a thin, barely visible egg-shaped shield that enveloped him. The shield, combined with a potion that increased his potency for absorbing magic, should be enough to negate the harmful effects of the curse. Should.

Avoiding the bolt in this narrow hallway was impossible. It impacted on the conjured shield with a loud crackle. For a moment the hallway was bathing in a bright white light as the magic released its energy. The shield held and the curse was avoided, but there was no time to celebrate as the Bonewalker came storming down the hallway. Now having reached full speed, the monster was only moments away from Iorveth. He paced backwards towards the pillared room he came from. Facing the walker in a narrow hallway like this would be tantamount to suicide. He needed room to maneuver, room to dodge. Barely a second before the monster would reach him, Iorveth entered the room. He immediately dove to his left, tumbling towards the stony floor, Negotiator clenched to his chest. As he fell, he could feel the displacement of the stale air in the tomb, caused by a considerable mass of flesh and bone rushing past where he had stood only moments before. As the creature slowed down, Iorveth scrambled to his feet. He firmly grasped Negotiator with both hands, the tip of the blade softly swaying from left to right. He adopted a lower stance, knees slightly bent, bringing the longsword down to hip-level - ready to swing at the opponent. The Bonewalker had finally come to a halt and turned to face Iorveth again. It let out another frustrated roar. A smirk appeared on Iorveth's mouth. "My turn" he spoke quietly to the abomination.

Then Negotiator spoke.


	2. Bitter Homecoming

**Chapter 1: Bitter Homecoming**

 _3E 427, 16 Last Seed. Inner Sea_

"Vvardenfell. The largest island in Tamriel. Vvardenfell makes up roughly half of all of Morrowind. Separated from the mainland by the Inner Sea, it lies in the most Northwest corner of the continent. Home of the Dunmer and before them the Chimer. The most outstanding feature of Vvardenfell's landscape is the Red Mountain. A volcano that sits at the very heart of the island. Years of regular eruptions had caused the lands around the volcano to be covered with a thick layer of ash. Those same eruptions are responsible for a mysterious illness that the locals refer to as the 'Ashblight'. It is said that the blight was devised by an ancient creature that resides within the mountain and causes unnatural aggressiveness within humanoids and creatures alike. It was for this reason that the Tribunal constructed the so-called Ghostfence - an enormous magical fence that encircles the entire mountain - during the first Era. "

Iorveth recited the passage he'd memorized from a book about Morrowind as he stared out over the water. He was standing on the deck of an imperial cargo ship, gently rocking on the waters of the Inner Sea. On the horizon ahead of him lay the coast of the island of Vvardenfell. They were headed for the port town Seyda Neen; a small imperial settlement in the Bitter Coast region. Surrounded by inhospitable marshlands the town hardly seemed pleasant, but after last night's storm anything was a welcome change of location. _Strange,_ he thought, _how the weather had suddenly taken such a turn for the worse. It all seemed fine when the ship set sail two days ago. Apparently one of the prisoners below had fallen ill and slept through the entire thing. Poor fellow must be in bad shape then, considering that the storm was so violent that I thought the ship would be torn apart at any given moment._ He leaned over the railing and continued staring ahead towards the ever growing coastline. In addition to the prisoners, the ship was carrying some food, spices, weapons and other necessities. Even though it wasn't exactly a luxurious ferry, he'd been lucky to catch a ride, as it was the last ship to sail out for Vvardenfell for the rest of the month. Of course, it had come at a hefty price. Iorveth glared to his right where the guard captain stood talking to his comrade, undoubtedly showing off his new sword. Iorveth's sword. It had been an expensive sword, damn it. Hardened steel core with silver plating. Richly decorated with engravings and set with gemstones. _Plague on it_ , Iorveth thought. He still had his dagger and magic to defend himself. At least until he could find a capable blacksmith to craft him a new sword.

The ship was now close enough to be able to identify some of the island's smaller features. For the most part, the coastline was dominated by enormous trees, riddled with vines and muddy green leaves. In the West, Iorveth could see a glimpse of a small fishing village. Most of the structures appeared to be constructed from wood and stood on tall pillars in the middle of the water. In the East stood a great stone fortress. One of the guards had told Iorveth that the fortress was called Ebonheart. It was the centerpoint of the imperial authority in Vvardenfell. Not only did it house the seat of Duke Vedam Dren, it was also the administrative center of the Imperial Cult's presence. From there, missionaries were sent all over the island to spread the 'divine inspiration' of the Nine Divines. Right between the fortress and the village lay their destination. Iorveth could see the lighthouse and a grand stone warehouse that made up most of Seyda Neen. The rest of the buildings were relatively small, consisting of stone walls, cladded with white clay and straw roofing - typical imperial architecture.

Iorveth was so lost in thought that he didn't hear the guard captain approaching him. "Pardon, traveller." He spoke as he tapped Iorveth on his shoulder. Iorveth looked at the redguard. He estimated that the man was around 50 years of age. His hair was mostly black but showed some patches of grey. He was wearing a chainmail cuirass with matching pauldrons, sturdy leather boots and heavy steel-plated gauntlets. On his hip he carried the sword that had belonged to Iorveth up until two days ago. "We will be arriving in Seyda Neen in a couple of minutes. I must ask that you report to the Census and excise office immediately once we make port. You will be asked to fill in some forms and provide some personal information. Just formalities, you know how it is, but the higher-ups like to keep track of whoever enters the region." Iorveth nodded as he listened to the redguard's instructions. The man went on for a while about 'The Legion's darned bureaucracy' while the rest of the crew started preparing for docking. The conversation was a bit one-sided, but the man spoke in a friendly manner and seemed genuinely interested in trying to educate Iorveth about the situation on the island. "You see, I can complain about the bureaucracy all day," The redguard continued "But even I see why it's necessary. The whole country is a political mess. We have the council with representatives from all the major factions, but all of them are at eachothers' throats with accusations of conspiring and back room politics, trying to reinforce their own position by hiring outsiders not unlike yourself to do the dirty work. The whole situation is a tinderbox, and all it takes is a single spark to disintegrate the uneasy truce between the great houses of Morrowind and the Legion." Iorveth paid close attention. He wasn't interested in politics; he detested the subject as a whole, but it might be wise to learn which toes not to thread on during his stay regardless. Especially considering the fact that his reason for being in Vvardenfell was a particularly sensitive matter.

While the redguard continued ranting about politics, the ship finally arrived in the small port town. Two deck-hands had been standing in wait with a long wooden plank. As soon as the ship made contact with the pier, they dropped the plank on the pier and jumped ashore. Other deck-hands threw them a pair of thick, heavy ropes, which they attached to the bollards. Before the ship was fully secured to the dock, the guards and the rest of the crew amassed on deck and started disembarking. Evidently, the storm had left its mark on the men and they were keen to get off board. "Well, that's us." The guard captain concluded. Just head straight for that building and talk with the Census and Excise agent inside. He'll take care of the rest." He pointed at the building nearest to the pier. "Take care now, traveller." Iorveth had already collected his belongings from below. He was travelling light. Most of the luggage consisted of some food, some spare sets of clothes, a journal and some basic alchemical tools. He brought enough gold for a couple of weeks worth of lodging and supplies, but he hadn't considered the possibility that he'd be looking for a new sword after his arrival. He'd have to earn some more soon to be able to cover the expenses. He slung the guar-skin pouch that contained his belongings over his shoulder and jumped ashore.


	3. Formalities

**Chapter 2: Formalities**

 _3E 427, 16 Last Seed. Seyda Neen_

"Name?"

"Iorveth"

"Just Iorveth?"

"Iorveth Lhazar"

"Lhazar.. Dunmer.. Male." The old robed man mumbled to himself while he scribbled on a parchment scroll. His quill - made from the plume of a cliff racer - danced across the parchment, forming swirly letters. The document bore an official looking emblem of the Imperial Legion. Iorveth felt uneasy being questioned by the man; like a suspect being interrogated. While the man's attention was glued to the scroll in front of him, Iorveth took a moment to observe the room they were sitting it. It was a beautiful place. The ceiling was supported by thick hardwood beams, decorated with carvings in a grapevine pattern. From the wall opposite of Iorveth hung three tapestries. Each of them depicted a different figure; The left one depicted a hooded man, the middle one a mage and the one to the right a warrior resting after a tiresome battle. The room had no windows, and the only exits were through the door Iorveth arrived from and another door to his left, which was guarded by an imperial soldier clad in steel-plated armour. Sitting opposite of him, across an impressive looking desk cluttered with various scrolls and pieces of unspoiled paper, sat the Census and Excise agent busily writing down Iorveth's details.

"Hmm, interesting." The old man continued. "I see you're a dark elf. Were you born in Morrowind? Any relatives that live in Vvardenfell?"

"No." Iorveth replied. "I was born in Cyrodiil. I believe my father used to live in Morrowind, but that was decades ago. I have no relatives that live in Vvardenfell. At least, none that I know of."

"May I inquire about the purpose of your stay in the region?" The man dipped the quill in a small flask that stood on his desk and looked Iorveth straight in his eyes. The man looked old and fragile, but his piercing blue eyes still exerted an aura of authority. Iorveth hesitated a moment before answering.

"I have come here to make a living as a treasure hunter." Iorveth realized how silly that must have sounded. His answer sounded like that of a young child when asked what he wanted to become when he was all grown up. His suspicion was confirmed by a burst of laughter from the old man.

"Ah yes, I see at least a dozen of those come through every year. Less than a quarter survives longer than a couple of months and even less have anything to show for their time spent here when they come back to me a year later, looking to board the next ferry to the mainland. No, you'll have to do better than that, dunmer."

"How does a direct order from the imperial court mage sound?" Iorveth would've preferred to avoid using his trump card this early. He reached for the inner pocket of his leather vest and pulled out a sealed letter, which he handed to the Census and Excise agent.

"What is this?" The man mumbled as he inspected the letter. The seal resembled a dragon, portrayed on a diamond shaped background; The dragon banner - symbol of the Imperial crown. The expression on his face grew serious as he opened the letter and began reading. His eyes darted across the document from left to right, absorbing its contents.

The letter was written by the court mage of the emperor Uriel Septim VII himself. A breton by the name of Giruel Letienne. The breton had hired Iorveth to track down a number of artefacts. Powerful, legendary items that had been lost for many decades. The letter described the conditions of the agreement and served as a letter of good conduct if Iorveth's activities were ever questioned by the local authorities. Of course, the details of the artefacts themselves were not included in the document. Iorveth had committed that sort of information to memory. The items he was to find on the island were dangerous. The breton mage claimed that he wanted the artefacts for safekeeping, but Iorveth knew better than that. "Those mages are all the same; always looking to become more powerful. Too ambitious for their own good." Iorveth was sure the mage would tremble with excitement at the very idea of ever holding and using such an item, but he didn't care. The only thing he cared about was coin, and that was something the mage could provide in spades.

The old man had finished reading the letter. With a frown he folded the document and handed it back to Iorveth. "Be careful, mister Lhazar," the robed man spoke. "I don't know about Cyrodiil, but Vvardenfell is a dangerous place. Dangerous beasts roam the land and its undercrofts, and then there's that damned blight. I won't question your abilities, but this place is different than any other that I know of. Do not underestimate it, or it'll be the end of you."

With that ominous warning, the man sprinkled some fine sand on the parchment for the ink to dry, pressed his seal on the document and rolled it into a tight cylinder. Finally, he handed the roll to Iorveth. "Hand this letter to the guard on your way out. Just exit through there and take the first door on your right. Be careful, dunmer, and good luck. May the Nine guide you."

As Iorveth approached the door to his left, the guard sprang to life and unlocked it. Without a word he allowed him to pass. As soon as he stepped through the opening, the guard closed the door with a loud bang. Iorveth could hear it being locked again from the other side. He followed the hallway to the first door to his right, which lead to a small courtyard. There was only one way to go, so Iorveth continued onwards and entered the building where he was greeted by another soldier. This one was wearing more richly decorated armour, polished to a shine. Iorveth guessed that the man was a high ranking officer in the Legion's ranks.

"Greetings, sir," Iorveth began. "I just came from the Census office, I was told to show you these papers on the way out?"

"Ah yes, I'll take those. I take it you were on the ship that arrived just now? Must've had it rough, with that storm and all." The man seemed lighthearted and spoke in a casual manner. Iorveth suspected that would have been another story if he had been a lesser member of the Legion himself.

"Aye, it was quite bad. But we made it through, evidently. Been a while since I witnessed such bad weather out on the water."

"My name is Sellus Gravius, traveller, but just call me Sellus. If you need any directions or information about the region, I'd be happy to provide it." Sellus extended his hand to Iorveth, which he accepted and shook.

"That is very kind of you, Sellus. In fact, I could use some directions. I'm looking for a tavern to stay in for a while. I also need information regarding certain items. Enchanted items. Any suggestions where to start?"

"Hmm," Sellus was silent for a moment. "Well, I suggest you start in Balmora then. It's a reasonably sized town about half a day's worth of walking from here. They have a couple of taverns, as well as a mages guild. They might be able to help you with the enchanted items you seek."

"Excellent, than that is what I will do. How do I get there?"

"Once you exit this building, cross the bridge that runs across the creek. Eventually, you should be able to see a path that leads to the east, past a Silt Strider port. You can either take the Silt Strider to Balmora, or follow the path until it takes you through a small passage marked by a couple of rock spires. From there the route should be clearly marked with signs."

"Excellent. I better make haste then if I want to make it there before nightfall. Thank you for your kind help, Sellus."

"Any time, traveller." Sellus Gravius concluded. "Perhaps we will meet again. Until then, the best of luck on your quest."

Iorveth exited the building and found himself in the middle of the port town of Seyda Neen. Directly in front of him stood the tall warehouse that he'd seen from the deck of the ship. The rest of the town consisted of small stone buildings and even smaller wooden shacks. A couple of people were wandering around the town, but for the rest it was suspiciously quiet. _Most folks are probably inside, enjoying a lunch_ , Iorveth wagered. Come to think of it, he was pretty hungry himself. He spotted the bridge the imperial officer mentioned, and the path that curved to the east beyond it. There stood what could only be the so-called Silt Strider. The beast was unlike anything Iorveth had ever seen before. It stood on six legs, and two shorter ones that hung in the air like a pair of oversized feelers. The creature was huge, as tall as at least ten fully grown men standing on eachothers' shoulders. Its crescent shaped body was covered in a thick, chitinous shell. A small compartment was carved out of its back, which was where Iorveth assumed the passengers were supposed to be seated. He could hardly believe this thing was considered to be a means of transportation, but as he came closer a dark elf standing next to the creature greeted him.

"Greetings, stranger. Need a ride? We'll make a trip, just for you! Same low price," the caravaneer exclaimed.

While Iorveth was tempted to see the creature in action, he preferred to feel solid earth under his feet for a little while longer. Especially after spending two long days on the waters of the Inner Sea. It would also be a good opportunity to explore the Island a bit, discover what sort of flora it had to offer. And so it was that Iorveth declined the caravaneer's offer and began his hike to the town of Balmora.


End file.
